Winning isn't Personal
by Dimentio Lives
Summary: It's just natural.


I'm in a room. It's fairly dark, but the glow from the multiple screens gives me some amount of light, not that there's much to see in here anyways. The only items of interest are the aforementioned screens, which are displaying various angels of the stage I will soon be transported to. After a few minutes, the few of the stages is replaced by a timer. I silently countdown with it. Upon the appearance of the number ten, I spread my feet apart, waiting for the pipe that is about to sprout beneath my feet. Once it appears, I wait for the number five to be displayed, upon which point I slide my feet against the smooth metal, allowing myself to fall into the void beneath me.

As I surface at my destination, I hear a familiar, booming voice proudly announce the number three. Ballyhoo continues reciting the next two numbers in descending order before loudly commanding myself and my opponent to "GO!" Upon the declaration of this word, my opponent rushes at me, an indignant fire in his eyes. I ready myself as best as I can to repel him, clutching and preparing to swing the tightly folded cape in my pocket.

Moments before impact, I, with my cape in hand, swing my arm in front of him. The cloth partially wraps around him, and I pull back, and because of the slight aerial lift, he spins in two complete circles before collapsing to the ground. Regaining his composure will provide no relief, for I will have a charge punch waiting for him. The maneuver is executed perfectly, as he stands and I punch.

He now lies on the ground before me, panting heavily. I take a step forward and draw back my foot. However, before I can complete the kick, he rolls beneath my drawn back leg and swings his sword with all the force he can muster at my unprotected back. I stumble forward and take a quick glance at the damage counter strapped to my wrist, and snarl at the realization that thirteen damage had been received.

As I am preparing my attack, the live audience surrounding us at three sides, lets out a collective gasp. I look behind me, and as a result, get shoved aside by my opponent. He then leaps up and smashes his sword through the psychedelically glowing ball that floats before him. My face pales as he lands in front of me, a smug grin on his face. He then draws back his sword, the trio of triangles on the back of his hand glowing and detaching themselves from his gauntlet.

I foil his would-be attack by leaping on the platform above me, the triangles continuing on and outward towards the crowd beyond, only to be returned to him at the end of the match. I taunt him briefly from my perch by tipping my hat to him, and then proceeds to agitate him further by shooting a flurry of fireballs in his direction. He momentarily seeks refuge behind his shield, before rushing forward until he is under my current position, and then throws a bomb upward towards my direction.

Upon my untimely arrival to the ground, he brings me to my feet with his clawshot and proceeds to pummel me with the jeweled hilt of his sword. After a good twenty hits he releases me, and begins to start a spinning attack, which I thwart with my F.L.U.D.D. Being pushed away and stunned by this, Link was left vulnerable to an attack that I launch in my desperation to end this match before our remaining time depletes.

I rush towards him and grab the folds of his clothing, spinning around several times before throwing him off the side of the stage. He saves himself by latching on to the edge of it with his clawshot, and then shortened the chain so that he can grab the edge with his hand. As he pulls himself over the edge, I apprehend him with a sweeping kick, knocking him further offstage than he was before.

I ready myself for another attack, but then realize that his jump will fall short of the stage. I hold my breath as Ballyhoo counts down. 5…4…3…2…1. My heart freezes as the realization hit me that the match had ended before Link had finished his fall. The Lakitu operating the camera signals for a commercial break as Link floats back down on a platform.

"Prepare for the worst," Link snarls through gritted teeth, the two of us grimacing as our damage counter went all the way to 300.

The Lakitu signals us, conveying the message that we are on air, while Ballyhoo takes the cue to roar: "SUDDEN DEATH! GO!"

Almost instantaneously, Link fires an arrow at me. The shot knocked me back about as far as a charged sword swing would have under normal conditions. I slow myself down by unfurling my cape in front of me, and I spin aerodynamically so that I land back on the stage. Link attempted to pull me closer by throwing a boomerang behind me in hopes that it would drag me closer. However, on its return trip, the only success it had was bringing the fireball I had shot in his direction towards him ever more swiftly.

Unfortunately, this provided no rewarding amount of knockback. Infuriated and offended by this gesture, Link retrieves a bomb from his collection, and prepares to throw it at me. Before the bomb leaves his hand, however, a similar looking object with eyes, windup key and feet, fall two feet from Link and explodes. Not scathing him, and startling him, we both look towards the glass walled control room and meet the gaze of the R.O.B. working there.

We both frantically advance our pace, but one of us had made one single, fatal mistake: in the confusion, Link had never thrown his bomb. The shiny blue explosive fulfilled its purpose in his hand instead of near its target, sending Link flying off the stage.

* * *

Glaring coldly at the back of my head, Link stiffly applauds my performance as our rankings are displayed in front of us by our mechanical wrist bands. The Lakitu filming in front of us holds up three fingers, followed by two, and then lastly one as the red light on the camera dims then fades away all together. Link then walked up to me and snarled in my ear: "You didn't win that battle, it was won for you. So don't get too cocky just yet. We still have yet to find who the superior among us is. And trust me, little man, he will be found soon." I sigh in disappointment at his competitive and aggressive nature.

What he didn't understand was that my actions towards him were far from personal, they were natural. I am Mario. The hero of legend, savior of a galaxy, and long-time nemesis of more people than I'd like to list. But every time, I've managed to come through. I am Mario. Winning isn't personal, it's just natural.

**AN: Sorry for the serious tone this one has, it was an idea I had while playing Brawl. Next one's gonna be a companion fic to this one to explain why Link was so P. at Mario. Comedy, naturally ;) **


End file.
